


Unstoppable Force Vs. Immovable Object

by Greensleeves



Series: The Lucky Cat Café [6]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Meet the Robinsons (2007)
Genre: Crying, M/M, why are my boys always crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-05 11:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greensleeves/pseuds/Greensleeves
Summary: For someone whose motto was “Keep moving forward,” Wilbur could be as immobile as a mountain.It was as they say, “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?"Well, in this case, you got two frustrated and exhausted boyfriends.





	1. Unstoppable Force

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Meet the Robinsons or Big Hero 6. All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: blood, swearing

It was unfortunate that the LGBT+ superhero conference started the weekend before finals did at SFIT for the spring term and finished on the forthcoming Monday. This predicament forced Hiro to arrange to take all of his finals before leaving for the conference as the alternative option, which was really no alternative at all, was completing them after a weekend with absolutely no studying. So he took them early; he’d dealt with it for the past two years, and he’d do it up until he graduated.

He didn’t like it, but at the very least, he was glad he didn’t have Wilbur’s problem:

Wilbur refused to sleep up to and during finals week.

It hadn’t taken Hiro long to notice the pattern—there was a direct correlation with how much stress Wilbur was under and how much sleep he got. It had first manifested in the dark bags under his eyes when he’d show up to the café toward the end of the fall and winter terms before moving in with Hiro and Aunt Cass. When Hiro had returned from the conference that year, he had learned from his aunt that she’d had to flip a circuit breaker to get him to stop studying. During the following finals weeks, Hiro watched him closely and attempted to break him out of his habit. He wasn’t sure his efforts were working or wanted, but that didn’t deter him. He even went as far as to invite Wilbur to come to the conference with him so he wouldn’t be left to his own devices at home, but Wilbur refused.

It was a humorous reversal of roles, Hiro thought. Typically Wilbur was the one imploring Hiro to _come to bed already, it’s past midnight and you were patrolling yesterday, and don’t you have a quiz first thing?_ With a sigh, he’d finally drag himself away from his latest homework assignment or tech upgrade design and join Wilbur in bed.

Wilbur wasn’t so easy to convince. For someone whose motto was “Keep moving forward,” he could be as immobile as a mountain.

It was how they say, “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?" 

In this case, you got two frustrated and exhausted boyfriends.

“Babe, _go to bed_.”

“How do you know I wasn’t asleep before you called?” Wilbur shot back pressing the phone against his shoulder to free his hands. Hiro kept talking as Wilbur searched his desk for a highlighter.

“Aunt Cass texted me; you know she likes to stay up watching old scary movies.”

Wilbur huffed, finally locating his highlighter. “I haven’t finished reviewing the study questions for my engineering class.”

“Wilbur, I quizzed you on those before I left,” Hiro replied, the exasperation evident in his voice.

“Yes,” he said, scanning the page for the section on structural integrity, “but I want to go over them again.”

“It’s past midnight your time; you need to sleep.”

He found it and began highlighting. “What if I forget something?”

“Well you’re not going to remember anything at all if you don’t rest properly!”

Wilbur rolled his eyes and tossed his highlighter aside. “You sound just like Baymax.”

“Gee, maybe because he’s right?”

“What if I don’t pass this test?”

Hiro sighed. Wilbur could practically see the disappointment on his face. “Have you ever done poorly on a test?”

Wilbur evaded the question. “Look—I don’t have time for this. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wil—“

Wilbur hit the ‘end call’ button. He rubbed his eyes blearily before standing up. If he was going to finish these questions, he was going to need more coffee. With that mission in mind, he stumbled down the stairs as quietly as possible for someone so fatigued.

~*~

Hiro returned home Monday afternoon on high alert. As Wilbur had ignored all of his texts and phone calls since he’d hung up on him two nights prior, Hiro quickly informed Aunt Cass that he was home before rushing the check in on his boyfriend with Baymax following him the entire way.

 _Something bad’s going to happen to him one of these days because of this habit_ , Hiro thought sourly as he trudged up the stairs in the house from the café.  An exclamation of surprise coupled with the sound of breaking glass greeted Hiro halfway up the steps.

 “Shit!”

“It would appear someone is in need of assistance.”

“It sure would, Baymax.”

He redoubled his pace up the stairs and practically skidded to a halt in the kitchen.

“Wilbur?”

 

Hiro took in the sight before him: Wilbur’s stricken face, eyes wide with bags large enough to be hammocks below them; the scattered pieces of glass from the broken coffee pot mixed with a dark roast spreading quickly across the floor along with—

“ _Fuck_ , Wilbur, is that your blood?!”

 Wilbur looked down then back up at him like he hadn’t noticed standing rooted to the spot. “That is an excellent question.”

Hiro began picking his way through the mess, muttering all the way. “I can’t leave you alone for one _fucking_ weekend,” he said reaching Wilbur and throwing him over his shoulder despite Wilbur’s protests and heading back out of the kitchen still talking, “without you hurting yourself because of sleep deprivation!” Hiro plopped him unceremoniously onto the couch in the living room.

Wilbur pushed himself into a more respectable sitting position. “I’m okay, really—it’s just a couple of scratches!”

Hiro ignored his statement. “Baymax, scan him,” he stated waving his hand toward Wilbur. 

“That’s really unnecessary—“

“You have sustained multiple lacerations. None require stitches.”

“Well, that’s good,” Hiro mumbled.

“You are also showing signs of sleep deprivation.”

“I’m fine—“

Hiro glared at him.

Wilbur rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Okay, maybe I haven’t been getting enough sleep, but it’s finals! What do you expect from me?”

“I would expect you could take care of yourself better.” Turning to Baymax, he said, “Make sure Wilbur stays here while I get the first aid kit.”

With the sound of Wilbur’s objecting voice in the background, Hiro trudged to the bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit. Once back in the living room, he knelt in front of the couch and opened it.

_Hmm . . . we’re running low on bandages again._

Wilbur was still fighting to get up when Hiro returned.

“Hiro, let me do it; you’re probably tired from traveling.”

“Wilbur, just shut up, and let me take care of you for once,” he said while pulling on latex gloves.

“But—“

“Just. Shut. Up.” He doused a clean rag with rubbing alcohol. “You may want to bite down on a pillow, babe.”

Wilbur snorted. “I’m not a baby, Hiro.”

He shrugged. “It’s your decision.” He pressed the rag against Wilbur’s left foot.

“See?” Wilbur said smugly. “It doesn’t— _shit_!” Wilbur grabbed the nearest pillow and hugged it to his chest like a life preserver.

“Shall I provide emotional support?” Baymax asked.

“Well, he’s not getting any from anyone else,” Hiro mumbled.

Baymax blinked once at him before turning to Wilbur. He patted his head. “There, there. Everything will be alright.”

Wilbur glowered.

As frustrated as Hiro was with his boyfriend, he didn’t laugh. Silently, he finished cleaning the excess blood from his foot, bandaged it, and repeated the same procedure with the other.

“All right, Wilbur,” he said. “What are we go to do about you now?”

Wilbur didn’t reply. Hiro looked up to see that he’d fallen asleep with Baymax’s inflated arms still around him. Hiro sighed.

_Good._

His head had fallen forward onto his chest with his arms still clutching the pillow. After getting to his feet and instructing Baymax to move, Hiro ever so carefully repositioned Wilbur so he was lying down on the couch. Hiro draped a light-weight blanket across him before planting a kiss on his forehead.

_I knew you were gonna get yourself hurt one of these days._

He gathered up the first aid kit; upon reaching the bathroom closet, he traded it for cleaning supplies. He mopped up the excess liquid from the kitchen floor before sweeping up the broken glass. Leaning over the sink, Hiro opened the kitchen windows. Before breaking out the disinfectant, Hiro switched on the exhaust fan in the range hood. While the disinfectant was completely environmentally-friendly—Aunt Cass was a big stickler on those sort of things—it was pungent all the same as bleach.

Once he’d finished cleaning up and checked to make sure Wilbur was still asleep, he trekked upstairs. Sifting through the disaster that was Wilbur’s desk, he found the final exam schedule. Hiro scanned it quickly. He was well-aware that Wilbur had had one that morning (though how he was awake during it, Hiro had no clue), and it seemed he had his other two tomorrow at nine and twelve. Involuntarily, he cringed. That was going to rough for sure.

Hiro had his work cut out for him; he could watch out for an entire city with the help of his friends, but he couldn’t even convince his boyfriend to take care of himself properly.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he texted the group.

_hey guys ive got a situation here at home. can someone cover my patrol tonight?_

Replies were almost immediate— _sure thing!, we’ve got you covered little dude, hope everything’s okay_ , etc.

With that settled, Hiro found himself heading back downstairs.

~*~

Wilbur’s phone buzzed as he and Hiro were putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher after dinner the following day. He checked the notification and pursed his lips. “My father’s calling me on Skype—I gotta go.” He rushed upstairs to open his laptop to accept the call.

“Hey, Wilbur! How were finals?” his father asked brightly.

Wilbur forced a smile onto his face as he spoke. “They were good, Dad.”

“A’s again?”

His eyes shifted away from the screen. “Undoubtedly.”

“You know, I’d still be proud of you if you didn’t get A’s, Wilbur.”

The smile froze on his face. It’s not that he didn’t believe his father—on the contrary, he was sure his entire family would still support him if he went as far to drop out of college—but something inside Wilbur wouldn’t allow him to accept the sentiment fully. Maybe it was because he was expected to take over the Robinson company someday.

Or that he was ostracized by the other kids his age growing up.

Or that he was always “The son of Cornelius Robinson, Father of the Future.”

Because he wasn’t ever “Wilbur Robinson, his own person.”

Because he met few people that didn’t already have an opinion on him.

Because everyone seemed to think they knew what was best for him.

So he did what everyone expected him to do: He graduated from highschool when his peers were sophomores. He went to a celebrated college across the country in one of the most high-tech cities in the world. He got good grades at the cost of his mental health.

The only thing he happened to have done on his own terms was date Hiro. Though his love interest turning out to be a superhero felt like an orchestration by some god with a wicked sense of humor. Wilbur couldn’t have an ordinary love life, oh no. While he loved Hiro deeply and wouldn’t give up what they had for the world, it was more than taxing to shoulder the anxieties that came along with his job. And at that moment, their relations were on shaky ground due to Wilbur’s drive to meet his own expectations.

It seemed Wilbur was his own worst enemy.

And he refused to tell anyone this. Including his father.

So he tilted his head and replied nonchalantly, “Of course, Dad.” He stifled a small yawn.

His father smiled at him—genuinely, not like Wilbur’s false smile held in place by his desire to keep him happy. Wilbur rested his elbows on his desk as he listened to his father go on to detail what had been happening in the Robinson household since they last spoke. Aunt Billy upgraded her train (it was faster than Gaston’s cannon by 0.125 of a second), Tallulah and Laszlo had submitted a piece to a local art museum (it was turned down; the family threw a celebratory dinner), and Grandpa Bud was working on a fireproof shirt to go with his fireproof pants (it was a work in progress).

The call ended once Wilbur couldn’t hold back from openly yawning any longer; it seems the lack of sleep was going to haunt him for awhile. His father signed off warmly, and Wilbur, for once, was okay with their session being cut shorter than usual. He hadn’t felt much like talking anyway.

He crawled into bed despite it barely being eight o’clock; he was out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

That night, he dreamt he was wandering around a city carrying around two objects: one was spherical and the other cordiform.  At first he hid them by clutching them close to his chest, afraid for those around him to see that the objects he valued so dearly, his mind and his heart, were both riddled with cracks and chips. After a while, he became less afraid; he openly presented them only to receive sneers and jibes from faceless hecklers.

Ashamed of himself, he ducked into a side street and reverted to holding them tight to his chest. With a gentle sob, one tear fell, then another, and another after that. He wiped away the tears on his face to find that they were made of gold. Tentatively, he looked down at his mind and his heart to see some of the cracks filled with gold.

Confused, he closed his eyes to rest his head against the wall behind him. An odd mechanical humming met his ears, but upon open his eyes, he saw nothing and no one. The only evidence that something had occurred was the palette knife lying next to his foot.

_Alone . . ._

He picked the palette knife up, his eyes welling with tears once more. When he began to cry this time, however, he caught the golden tears in one of his hands. With the other, he gently worked them before using the palette knife to repair the cracks in his mind and heart.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked at his work.

But something was missing; there was a gap in his heart too large to fill.

Discouraged once more, he cast it aside and closed his eyes again.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get his eyes open when he heard the person approaching. Something was pressed into his hands firmly after which a tender kiss was placed on his forehead. Once his eyes were open, all he saw was a shadow disappearing around the corner.

And in his hands, was his heart, the gap having been filled in with red gold.


	2. Immovable Object

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: swearing, nb-phobia

Hiro groaned as he came too. His eyes watered with pain as he opened them.

_My fucking head—if I have another concussion, certain people are going to kill me personally._

“Finally! I was beginning to worry that I’d hit you too hard!” a voice said much too cheerfully.

Hiro blinked blearily as the person stood in front of him came into focus. They were wearing a violet cape over a shocking red suit. Their dark hair fell in curls past their shoulders and was tinted at the ends. Hiro bit his tongue from critiquing their fashion decisions.

“Well?”

Hiro continued to stare. “Hi?”

The supervillain sighed. “No ‘Who are you?’ or ‘Where am I?’ or ‘What’s going on?’” they asked exasperated.

Hiro glanced around the room. For all intents and purposes, they seemed to be in the living room of some apartment. The furnishings were sparse, but there was another chair across from the one he was currently bound to and an old television set to the right. “Uh, do you want me to pick one?”

“Yes.”

“Okay . . . who are you?”

They clapped their hands together. “Fantastic choice! I am Metis, she/her/he/him pronouns.” Metis searched his face for signs of understanding.

“Do you have a preference right now?” he asked.

“She,” Metis said brightly.

“Alright, Metis. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but frankly it’s not considering I’ve been kidnapped.”

Metis hummed with pleasure. “I’m so glad you know what’s going on here. It’ll make things run that much smoother. Now I wonder what the news has to say about the leader of Big Hero 6 going missing.” She switched on the tv.

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t disappeared before,” Hiro muttered.

The newscaster mirrored Hiro’s own words. “Now this isn’t the first time the leader of San Fransokyo’s own Big Hero 6 has gone off the radar. Earlier just this week, the Big Hero 6 team was found to be fighting crime without their leader.” A clip played that showed Hiro’s partners running through downtown during a chase. “This time, however, he seems to have been kidnapped by a supervillain calling himself ‘Metis.’”

Another newscaster spoke up. “Wasn’t Metis a goddess, Armando?”

Hiro’s eyes flitted to Metis’s fists clenched at her sides.

“That she was, Sylvia!”

Metis growled with frustration as she switched off the television. “Stupid newscasters. Happens every time.”

 _Every time?_ Hiro wasn’t sure he’d heard of Metis before, but maybe she was new in town. “What? They discuss your name?”

She shot him a dark look, and for the first time, Hiro was genuinely concerned about his current situation. “Yes and no. They always seem down to acknowledge that Metis was _female_ while refusing to acknowledge that my own gender is nonbinary. I don’t know how my assigned gender got exposed to the public”—she sneered slightly at this—“but now they won’t let go of it. Like, c’mon, it’s 2040, for goodness sakes! If you’re going to pick a bone with me, why not let it be about my fantastically devilish crimes?”

Hiro couldn’t have named any of her crimes if he tried, but he agreed with her general statement.

“Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Nothing’s binary, _especially_ gender.”

Metis was giving him a weird look—well, her overall look was weird, but her facial expression was one of disbelief.

“You really think so?”

Hiro raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

Her eyes darted away from him for a split second. “If I told you that I’m genderfluid, what would you say?”

 “You’re valid.”

“Really?”

“Of course!”

She made a contented noise before seating herself in the overstuffed chair opposite. “You are the nicest superhero I have ever interacted with. Usually you all are so uptight and just want to cut to the chase.”

 _Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if we cut to the chase_. _This is undoubtedly the most casual kidnapping I have ever heard of someone going through._

“So, uh, I didn’t see you at the LGBT+ conference for supers,” he said trying to keep things light.

She settled further into her chair. “No, I didn’t even know we had one.”

“Yeah, it’s every June up in Seattle.”

“Because of Pride?”

“That, plus it seems no one is a fan of fighting during the beginning of a heatwave in spandex or armor.”

Metis looked down at her own suit. “I can see that. Are significant others allowed?”

“Yeah, and I’ve tried to convince my boyfriend—”

If Hiro could’ve clapped a hand over his mouth, he would have. The silence was tangible between them as Hiro’s stomach filled with dread.

Metis examined her acrylic nails coolly. “So. This boyfriend of yours.”

Hiro wiped his face clean of emotions. Wilbur, forever his Freudian slip. He knew better by now than to willingly reveal facts about his personal life, but he’d just gone and exposed a big one.

“What boyfriend?”

“Your boyfriend.”

“I have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, you literally just mentioned him like ten seconds ago.”

Hiro shrugged. “Hm, it’s news to me.”

Metis threw up her arms. “I take it back! You’re just as ridiculous as the rest of the superheroes.” Swiftly, she stood up and put her hands on the armrest of Hiro’s chair to lean into his face. “Just admit you have a bae—“

“—please, don’t call him my ‘bae.’”

“—and maybe we can help each other,” she finished disregarding his interruption.

Hiro stared at her. “Let me get this straight: You’ll let me go if I tell you about my hypothetical boyfriend?”

She moved out of his space. “How many non-cishet villains have you met?”

Hiro thought for a moment. “Well, there’s Parasitium.”

Metis hissed. “Ugh, don’t mention them in my presence! We were going steady until they decided that blowing up a school bus that could have potentially had _children_ on it was a good idea!” She took a deep breath to recompose herself. “So to answer your question, yes.”

Hiro smiled. “Well, okay—”

“With three conditions.”

_Shit._

“One: you give me more information on the conference. Two: you publicly announce that I was the first supervillain to ever kidnap you. Three: while doing so, you clear up the misconceptions people seem to have about my gender.”

“That seems . . . reasonable,” he stated.

“Fabulous!” She sat back down in the other chair and rested her chin in her hand.

At first, the words came slowly, awkwardly, as Hiro tried to tell Metis about Wilbur without revealing too much personal information that could later hurt them both. The Lucky Cat Café became a random coffee shop that he and Wilbur had met at by sheer coincidence. The San Fransokyo Institute of Technology became a local community college. Hiro brought up no familial attachments.

But as he kept talking, something inside him broke which allowed the words to come rushing out faster with each passing moment. Wilbur’s tendency to self-imposed sleep deprivation, his anxiety over Hiro’s responsibilities after fighting Parasitium, all of it, even Hiro’s own feelings of malcontent due to not being able to take their relationship as far as Wilbur would like came tumbling out of his mouth.

Along with the words came the tears. Why exactly he was crying, Hiro was unsure other than it was cathartic after holding everything in. When the words finally ran out, leaving Hiro’s throat raw and face slick, he grew silent. Metis’s eyes were lit with a soft fire; Hiro suddenly wondered what had caused her to become a supervillain.

She handed him a tissue before speaking. “Listen,” she said seriously.

“I am.” It was awkward trying to dry one’s eyes when one’s arms were duct-taped to the arms of a chair, but Hiro was managing quite well.

“No, you need to listen to your _boyfriend_. The fact that he’s so concerned for your wellbeing says loads about his character. If everything you’ve said is true, it’s foolish to think he doesn’t love you, asexuality and all.” She leaned forward and patted his knee. “Also, you’re doing neither of you any favors by failing to strike a balance between work and your relationship; it’s taking a toll.”

_Please tell me you’ll always come home._

Hiro winced at the memory of Wilbur pleading with him to stay in.

“While you’re at it, you should realize that he may be dealing with something that you haven’t considered. Despite it being accepted as normal for college students to push themselves too hard, it isn’t natural.”

He sunk down in his seat. Was he really that oblivious? Was he so occupied by his own life that Hiro hadn’t noticed that Wilbur may be dealing with something he knew nothing about?

Then it hit him.

_That looks like the radio Uncle Mike has!_

_Mom taught me to sing._

_My father’s calling me on Skype—I gotta go._

Wilbur had a _family_ —a family that extended beyond an aunt and robot. A family that was colorful and supportive and everything else a family was supposed to be except thousands of miles away. Hiro had no clue what kind of stress that put on Wilbur’s shoulders.

Metis was right; he really did need to listen better.

She sat back as Hiro took these new revelations in. “You feel bad.”

Hiro didn’t respond.

“Remorse is a good thing as long as you don’t wallow in it.”

“I’ll try not to,” he stated truthfully.

The answer seemed to satisfy her, at least on the surface, seeing as she then smoothly segued to her terms of release. It was interesting, to say the least, to have a casual conversation with one’s kidnapper. Her conditions were fair, though, and Hiro was always down to make the world a safer place for his fellow queerfolk, so he wasn’t complaining.

At the end of it all, Metis cut his restraints. Rubbing at his wrists, Hiro tried to regain some of the feeling he’d lost in his fingers over the course of his restraint.

“I guess I’ll be going now.”

“Bye!” She waved her fingers. “It was nice kidnapping you.”

“Maybe we could meet under a white flag next time.”

Metis rolled her eyes. “Maybe at the next conference, but not before then.”

With that warm statement, he began to make his way out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, Hiro turned around. Having already opened the door to the hallway outside the apartment, he kept his voice low, unsure of who else may be in the hall, and asked, “Who hurt you?”

Like static on an old screen, a heartbroken smile flickered across Metis’s lips. “Sometimes the things that damage us the most are inflicted by ourselves and not others,” she whispered.

As Hiro turned and walked away, he missed her final message:

“I’ll see you around . . . Hiro.”

~*~

Wilbur tossed the newspaper in front of Hiro during breakfast. “Would you read that?”

**_“ It was the Best First Kidnapping He Could Have Hoped For”_ **

Hiro snorted. He hadn’t stated it quite like that to the reporter, but it was a moot point. He scanned the article, humming happily when he saw it ended with resources for further information on nonbinary genders and local LGBT+ support centers.

“It’s a nice article don’t you think, babe?”

“Well, yes, but you didn’t even tell me when you got home last night that you had been kidnapped!” Wilbur said, throwing his hands up in disbelief.

“I wasn’t hurt so I thought it could wait until morning. Your sleep schedule still hasn’t recovered from finals, you know.”

Wilbur pouted. “I knew you’d bring that up.”

"Well, it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to say it.”

Hiro waved his spoon in the air. “Regardless—we need to have a talk.”

Wilbur leaned up against the windowsill nursing his cup of coffee. “Do we, now?”

“Yes, we do.” He pushed away his now-empty bowl to rest his arms on the table. “First, I just want to say . . . I’m sorry.”

Wilbur quirked an eyebrow. “You’re what now?”

“I’m sorry.”

Wilbur blinked slowly. Upon opening his mouth, he spoke evenly. “You’re sorry for _what_ exactly?”

_So much._

Hiro couldn’t meet Wilbur’s eyes. He opted instead to trace the lines of gold in the kintsugi bowl in front of him. It was an old Japanese art; instead of getting rid of the broken piece, it was repaired with lacquer and gold which emphasized the breaks. Hiro wondered if this art form should apply to people too. That is, instead of hiding away one's brokenness and flaws, exposing them to the outside world for better or for worse. That's what he was trying to do at least, and he hoped Wilbur would understand and work with him.

“I’m sorry for failing to realize how much stress I cause you and being blind to what it must be like being so far away from your family.”

What Wilbur said next was unexpected.               

“Oh, man, you have no fucking clue.”

Hiro looked up in surprise but (wisely) kept his mouth shut; he waited in silence while Wilbur set his coffee down on the table to free his hands. He held up a hand.

“Well, actually, you got that first part right.” He took a deep breath and blew it back out. “I know after we spoke about it last that you’ve been trying to alleviate my worrying.” A miniscule smile twitched on and off his face. “I appreciate the effort regardless of how little it’s been helping. But my family . . .”

Hiro watched him expectantly. Wilbur repeatedly open and closed his fists out in front of himself as if one of these times they’d reveal the words he was searching for in his mind.

“It was a shock at first to be away from my family, but that’s not the issue here.” Wilbur paused once more. He walked around the table; for a moment, Hiro thought he was going to leave the room. Instead, he sunk down in the chair adjacent. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of him.

“You’re under pressure as a superhero to be what everyone expects you to be: good and noble and self-sacrificing and what have you.” He folded and unfolded his hands. “I’m under pressure to be like my father: a genius worthy of taking over the Robinson company someday. And unlike you, I have no mask to hide behind. There’s no shielding who I am from the outside world without harming myself.” Wilbur held his gaze imploringly. “Do you understand that, Hiro?”

Hiro reached out and took Wilbur’s hands in his own. “I think so. Again, I’m so sorry for not noticing earlier.”

Wilbur shrugged. “It’s not like I told you or anything.”

“Still.” Hiro squeezed his hands lightly. “I’m your boyfriend—I should have been more in tune with what was going on. I’ll try better in the future.”

Wilbur squeezed his hands back. “Thanks, Hiro.”

Absentmindedly, Hiro began to rub circles on the back of Wilbur’s hand with his thumb. “Are you hiding yourself anymore?”

Wilbur’s hesitation spoke volumes. “Maybe . . . yeah.”

Hiro stood up pulling Wilbur to his feet as well. He could feel Wilbur leaning on him as he drew him into a hug.

“I wouldn’t want you to be anyone but yourself, Wilbur. I love _you_ , the boy who sings as he makes breakfast in the morning; _you_ , the boy that showed up week after week at the café until Aunt Cass knew you by name; _you_ , the boy with a heart bigger than anyone I’ve ever known.” His voice was thick at this point. “I can’t—I can’t imagine that your family doesn’t see what I see.”

It was unclear if the slight trembling Hiro felt was caused by his own attempt to hold back tears or Wilbur’s. In either case, Hiro tightened his arms around his boyfriend.

“I love you, Wilbur,” he whispered into his shoulder.

“I love you, too, Hiro.”

Hiro pulled back. The tear tracks on Wilbur’s cheeks matched the one’s forming on Hiro’s own face.

“No more hiding?”

Wilbur’s smile was small, yet genuine. He ruffled Hiro’s hair playfully before planting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose.

“No more hiding.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed this :)


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